Plain Old Bizarre

Today I had a bizarre encounter. I was picking up some pizza we had ordered for The Sentinel. We have this ad trade with Little Caesar’s Pizza. They make sub par pizza at above par prices, plus they’re semi-local. So between the two it’s a good deal.

I was fresh out of the Kroc Center, where I had just been involved in possibly the longest basketball game of my life. It was supposed to go to 11, however we finally ended (with my team losing) at the modest score of 20 to 18 (due to this little rule called win by two). To top it all off, the team I was playing against was straight out of the ‘80s. Their shorts were short and they were wearing high-top all-star shoes. It was bizarre.

So, you can imagine my mental state. I’m tired (physically) and pretty spaced out from all the endorphins (or whatever). I walk into Little Caesars, not really sure what I want. This isn’t the place to contemplate your order choices. They want you to get in, order and get out. Strictly business. Well, I wasn’t prepared for that. I begin to hem and haw over the various combination's of cheap food with fake cheese. The lady isn’t giving me lee-way. She wants me to hurry up.

So, I begin to order. I ask for pepperoni with olives, mushrooms, green peppers and onions.

Simple, right?

The girl didn’t think so.

“Wow!” she said, “Slow down.”

Seriously? Slow down? There were like five toppings. Not exactly a six-course meal, right?

But I understand. We all have bad days. We all space out.

Then, her manager leans in and says,

“Ah, sorry about her she has downs syndrome.”

Now I’m confused. He seems serious. I mean people don’t joke about downs syndrome right? It’s not like something you joke about. It’s pretty serious, right?

So, I back-pedal,

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

Meanwhile the girl is saying to the guy,

“Oh, shut up, I’m not retarded…”

“Yes, you are,” he said. Then he looked at me and said,

“She is seriously retarded.”

She continued to protest.

I got my pizza and left.